


Comfort is no test of truth

by extrastellar



Series: SuperBatFam [1]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU, Superman - All Media Types
Genre: Batdad, Bruce Wayne is a Good Bro, Developing Relationship, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Pre-Relationship, Scarecrow's Fear Toxin (DCU)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-01
Updated: 2019-04-01
Packaged: 2019-12-29 19:50:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18300839
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/extrastellar/pseuds/extrastellar
Summary: Scarecrow managed to develop a fear toxin able to affect Superman and Bruce is left to pick up the pieces.





	Comfort is no test of truth

There was a very good reason why Batman didn't allow any metas (safe for Duke) in Gotham.

This. This was why.

"Flash, where are you?!", Bruce barked into his comm and swung around the corner of a skyscraper, barely escaping a ray of heat.

 _"On my way_ ", Barry called, the rush of wind slurring his voice. "Three _minutes, tops._ "

"You have one!" Bruce hauled himself onto the roof and craned his neck up to look at the Man of Steel in the air, screaming in terror and shooting heat vision and spewing cold breath at enemies Bruce couldn't see.

At enemies that weren't there.

Clark had spent the night at the Manor after they had dealt with intergalactic interference on the Watchtower. Scarecrow must have seen Superman flying over Gotham this morning, but Bruce had no idea how long Scarecrow had had Kryptonite-based fear gas, or that such a thing existed at all.

Clark had inhaled copious amounts of the gas before the Batcomputer could register what was happening.

"Flash!", Bruce roared when he saw Clark's eyes rolling in his skull, his body suddenly going limp and falling.

" _Almost there!_ "

Bruce swore under his breath and shot his grapple gun at the opposite building, swinging across the street to intercept Superman's fall. He slammed into the falling man with full force that wrenched a pained grunt out of him when his bruised ribs flared at the impact. Bruce's free arm grabbed Clark, the rest of his body curled around the Kryptonian to keep him up. He crashed onto the opposite roof, unable to hold his balance with the additional weight.

Bruce rolled Clark off him and turned him on his back. Superman's eyelids were fluttering even though he seemed to be unconscious and Bruce barely managed to pull his head back when the irides flared up red and heat vision shot up, searing off one of the ears on his cowl.

A gush of wind and the crackle of electricity announced Barry's arrival.

"Here", the Flash wheezed and tossed a syringe at Bruce. "Shit, Kyoto is _far_."

Bruce didn't pay further attention and rammed the thick Red Kryptonite needle through the lycra of the suit into Clark's thigh.

Superman's scream echoed through Gotham.

"Oh crap", Barry swore and dashed to the edge of the roof, ready to build up enough speed should Superman go crazy again.

Clark shot upright, eyes wide and wheezing for breath.

"Superman", Bruce said and slid closer, gauntlets hovering over his friend's shoulders. "Superman, are you alright?"

Clark's head whipped around and Bruce's chest clenched painfully when he saw the sheer panic in them. Clark scrambled back.

"Stay away", he croaked, curling in on himself. "Stay away, I'll kill you—"

"Clark", Bruce said. "It's me."

Clark shook his head, his breath hitching with silent sobs. "No, no, you're not real, you're just another hallucination—!"

"Clark", Bruce said again, more firm this time. "You were given an antidote for Scarecrow's fear gas. Check your left thigh. You can feel the remnants of Red K in the puncture wound from the syringe."

Clark was still shaking, but his eyes directed themselves at his thigh and flickered white when he accessed his x-ray vision.

"You're right", he mumbled and slowly, the tension seeped from his body. "It's there. This is real. Isn't it?"

"It is", Bruce said, his voice automatically shifting into the tone he used with hurt or scared civilians. "It's okay, Clark."

"Can I go?", Barry asked awkwardly.

Clark gave him a shaky smile. "Yeah, of course. Thank you."

Barry saluted and zoomed off, leaving the sharp scent of ozone in the air.

Clark's head dropped into his hands. "God, I'm— I'm so sorry, B."

The rumbling sound of a news helicopter approaching made Bruce look up. Great. The media.

"Can you fly?", Bruce asked.

Clark shook his head. "The Red K is still in my system. X-ray vision was already hard."

"Try. We need to get you out of here." Bruce jerked his head in the direction of the chopper.

Clark's voice turned desperate. "B, I can't, there's no sun coming through for me to recharge."

"Hn." Bruce calculated the distance to the Manor in his head, then touched his comm. "Alfred, I need the Batplane at my location."

" _Of course, Sir._ "

"Asap."

" _Two minutes, Sir._ "

Bruce turned to Clark and squeezed his shoulder. "One leap, Clark. Just one, to get you away from the news chopper. You can't be seen being carried by me."

Clark shuddered and heaved himself to his feet. "Where?"

"Wayne Tower. Roof."

Clark winced when he squinted to calculate the distance. "Sorry in advance for any property damage."

"Just don't fall."

"No promises." Clark crouched, steeling his still trembling muscles and launched into the sky in a giant leap.

Bruce shot his grapple gun and swung after. When he made it to the Tower's roof, the Batplane was hovering next to it, hull open. Bruce could see a red cape vanishing inside and quickly climbed in after. He took his seat in the cockpit and the plane zoomed off, leaving various news choppers in the dust as it went into stealth mode.

Clark sat in the seat behind him, shoulders slumped. "Well, aren't you gonna say it?"

Bruce grunted. "Say what?"

"'No metas in Gotham'", Clark said, voice tired. "I know you wanna say it."

"... maybe later." Bruce manoeuvred the plane into the Cave and landed it. "How are you feeling?"

Clark leaned back, looking at the ceiling of the Batplane. "Physically? I could use some sunlight."

Bruce turned multiple switches and the engine of the Batplane went silent. "I'll have Alfred prepare the sunbed."

"Bruce?" Clark's voice was soft, and unusually small.

"Hm?"

"Thank you." Clark settled into the seat next to Bruce, torso turned towards him. "I know you could have just shot me down using Green K."

Bruce was suddenly hyperaware of the little distance between them. "I have been fighting Scarecrow for years. I have a plan for every Leaguer in case they were ever exposed to fear toxin."

"I still destroyed a whole block of the city you protect, B." Clark shook his head, his slicked back Superman hair falling out of its form.

Bruce pulled back his cowl, barely aware of his "bat-hair" as his kids mockingly called it.

"Clark, I will only say this once", he said firmly and squeezed Clark's knee in an act of impulse. "So listen carefully. Kryptonian or not, my no-killing-rule does not exclude you. Clear?"

Clark huffed and patted Bruce's hand. "Crystal."

If there was something he had acquired over nearly two decades of being Batman, it was how to read it when people were hiding something.

"Clark?"

It was as if saying his name had opened a floodgate. Clark started crying, full on sobbing, tears dripping onto Bruce's hand where Clark was clutching it (when had that happened?).

This was not what Bruce had intended. He awkwardly patted Clark's hand, the grip was already bordering on painful. Bruce had gotten better at dealing with tears of those close to him (and really, nothing could get worse than witnessing Damian sob behind the closed door of his room after being victim to racist bullies), but mostly with his kids. He could count the times he had seen Clark cry on one hand and it had never been quite like this. It made his stomach churn with the desire to stop the flow of tears.

"What did you see?", he asked softly. He had a basic idea of how the fear toxin formula affected human brains, and although Kryptonian physiology was not too different from human's, who knew how their brains reacted?

Clark violently shook his head and curled in on himself, his broad shoulders trembling.

Bruce was a bit at a loss. He felt queasy seeing the Man of Steel, seeing sunny and cheery Clark Kent cry like this. It was not right, it twisted his gut uncomfortably.

He shifted to sit on the edge of his seat and leaned over the console to envelop Clark in a hug. It was stiff and kind of awkward stretched over the console, but Clark was clinging to him in seconds, head resting on Bruce's shoulder, tears running off the fabric of his cape in drops.

They stayed like this long enough for Bruce's bruised ribs to start throbbing and the muscles in his side to uncomfortably strain.

Clark's breathing was starting to ease back into normal inhales and exhales when he eventually pulled back, back of his hand rubbing at the tear tracks on his cheeks. "Ah... Sorry. Got your cape all wet, huh?"

"It's water-repellant", Bruce said. Which was probably not the smartest thing to say when his best friend had been crying on his shoulder just a second ago. "Should I call Lois?"

Clark hiccuped. "We didn't get divorced so she could keep up listening to me cry about superhero business."

Bruce grunted. Clark's and Lois' divorce had taken most of them by surprise, Bruce had known that Clark was worrying about the state of their marriage for a while back then, but he had been so used to Clark Kent and Lois Lane, the picture perfect couple, he hadn't really believed it until it happened. Naïve. Yet a little part of him was strangely satisfied at the fact that Clark preferred Bruce's comfort over Lois's.

"Kara or Mon, then?"

Clark shook his head and staggered out of the batplane, hands already unfastening the clasps of his cape. Bruce narrowed his eyes at the near hectic movement, the tremble in Clark's fingers.

"No, I. I just need some sunlight." He turned to give a smile that physically hurt Bruce in its fakeness. "Don't worry about me."

Normally, Bruce would have quipped something back like 'why should I', but he kept quiet this time. Clark did not miss that and a look of curiosity flickered over his face.

"You know where the sunbed is", Bruce said instead and moved towards the Batcomputer. The door to the Cave banged open the second Bruce sat down and Clark fled into the depths of the Cave before one of the kids could see him like this. He was fun Uncle Supes after all.

"Why didn't you call me!", Damian yelled and stormed down the stairs, followed by Alfred who was carrying baby Helena.

"It was a League matter", Bruce said. "You are not a Leaguer."

"I damn well should be!" Damian puffed out his chest, mouth twisting into an angry line. "You should have used Green K to shoot him down the second he got a whiff of fear gas, Father!"

Bruce's look turned hard. Alfred muttered 'oh dear' under his breath and Helena even stopped gurgling.

"And this is why you are years too early to be a Leaguer", he said, voice cold. "Until you learn to reign in your animosity towards Clark, my friend and a founding member of the Justice League, and start respecting the full extents of this family's moral code—"

"Todd doesn't heed to the moral code!", Damian snapped.

Bruce's jaw clenched. "—you will not even be considered as a Leaguer. Do not bring Jason into this. We have had this discussion and I will not have it again. Clear?"

Damian seemed about seconds away from exploding, but he just clenched his fists and stomped off, swearing under his breath. That had gone better than Bruce had expected, all things considered. Damian could have gone on an anti-Kryptonian rampage. Jon must be a good influence on him.

Helena whined and Bruce automatically reached for her. Alfred handed over the baby and turned to look at Damian slamming the door shut.

"Ah, youthful rebellion", he sighed. "I fear this house may never be cleared of it."

Bruce rolled his eyes and bounced Helena on his hip. Her small hands gripped the cape and he shifted her around before she could start to suckle at the fabric. The cape was covered in dirt and dust. "He will calm down. He's just quick to explode whenever Clark's concerned."

Alfred hummed. "Mr Kent does take up a considerable amount of your time recently."

Bruce shed the cape one-handedly while holding his baby with the other. "Clark is my best friend. He is almost family and he is recently divorced, adjusting to the bachelor life again. I am assisting him."

"Is that what we're calling it now, Master Bruce?"

"What do you mean?"

"Oh, nothing." Alfred clasped his hands behind his back. "Shall I take young Miss Helena back upstairs while you... assist Mr Kent?"

Bruce frowned and gave Helena back. "That pause made no sense, Alfred."

"I assure you, Master Bruce." Alfred's eyes twinkled. "It did to me."

Helena gurgled in his arms and the butler walked away with her, leaving Bruce with a deeper scowl than usual.

His comm unit creaked to life before Bruce could give Alfred's comments any more thought.

"Red Robin", Bruce said after a tap to activate it, recognising the frequency as Tim's channel. "Do you require backup?"

" _Uh, this is Kon. Superboy._ "

Bruce's eyebrow twitched. "Is Red Robin in trouble? Why are you accessing the Bat channel from his comm?"

A huff. " _Tim's fine. I saw the news — couldn't get in touch with Clark._ "

"He is recovering", Bruce said and glanced to where the sunbed was. A dim gleam came from under the closed lid. "Nothing the sunbed can't fix."

" _Yeah, physically_ ", Conner muttered.

"Clark is resilient. He will shake off the aftereffects of the toxin quickly enough", Bruce said. To be honest though, he wasn't really prepared to deal with Clark with PTSD. He could barely manage his own trauma, failed in helping his children with theirs more often than he could count, how was he supposed to support Clark in his?

" _Whatever you say, Bats._ " Bruce could hear Tim's voice in the background asking Conner if he was on the phone with Bruce. " _Keep us updated, will ya?_ "

Bruce grunted and tapped on the device to end the transmission. What was he, a glorified goth nurse?

(Goth? When had he started saying _that_? The kids weren't a good influence on his vocabulary.)

Speaking of kids. Wasn't Damian supposed to be at school? And Dick had wanted to drop by with Mar'i later this afternoon.

Bruce sighed and moved towards the lockers, balled the dirty cape up and tossed it in his laundry hamper (his eyeball twitched when he saw that Dick had thrown in one of his Nightwing suits _again_ as if he didn't have his own, very empty hamper). He undid the zippers and catches on the Kevlar, pulled off his boots and threw on a plain black t-shirt over his naked and bruised torso. He would hit the showers upstairs, the boys left the one in the Cave _filthy_.

"B?"

Bruce leaned back from where he was storing the suit and cowl in his locker. He crinkled his nose when he caught a weird stench coming from Steph's locker. She probably forgot her lunch in there. Again. Good lord.

"Shouldn't you still be in the sunbed?", Bruce asked and gave Clark a once-over. The sickly pallor was gone, his skin back to its normal Kansas-farmboy-tan. As far as he could observe, the tremble in Clark's muscles had stopped as well. Still, despite his apparently prime physical condition, the Man of Steel looked sick. "Clark?"

"The boys saw, didn't they", Clark asked and ran a hand through his tousled black hair. The Superman suit had been discarded and replaced by a pair of flannel pants (Bruce's, but he distinctly remembered Jason snatching them a while back and not returning them) and one of Bruce's bathrobes he had probably found _somewhere_ around the Cave. When had Batman's headquarters become a giant living room?

"Conner contacted me", Bruce said and closed his locker. "It's been on the news."

Clark's eyes widened. "The news— I have to call Ma." He scrambled to the landline connected to the phone upstairs and punched in his mother's number.

" _Martha Kent?_ ", Clark's mother picked up.

"Ma", Clark breathed.

" _Clark! Oh, good lord, you're alright. I saw the news and—_ "

"I'm alright", Clark said, a soothing tone seeping into his voice. "I'm okay. I'm sorry I didn't call sooner, I was pretty banged up."

" _Nonsense_ ", Martha scolded. " _I'm just relieved you're fine, my boy. The news said something about the Scarecrow?_ "

Clark tensed ever so slightly and Bruce found himself stepping closer to him. "I... yeah. Ain't much of a big deal, Ma, I'm good. Promise."

Martha did not seem convinced. " _Can't fool your old mother, Clark. Whenever you're ready to tell me — I'm here_."

Bruce could _see_ Clark getting choked up. "Yeah. Thank you."

" _Anytime, sweetheart. Call me, will you?_ "

"Of course."

" _Alright. Take care, Clark. I love you, honey_."

"Love you too, Ma."

The call ended and the Batcomputer locked the phoneline again. Clark let out a shuddering breath and rubbed his face. Bruce watched him, not saying a word.

"You've done more than you had to already, B, but can I ask you a favour?", Clark asked.

An 'anything' burned at the tip of Bruce's tongue. "Of course."

"Can I stay?" Clark's voice was unusually faint. "I know it's Saturday and that those Sunday morning brunches are important bonding time for you and the kids, but I really don't want to be on my own...?"

Bruce blinked. Of all the things, he hadn't expected Clark to ask _this_. He wasn't opposed to it — Clark Kent was always welcome at Gotham. Superman less so.

"I totally get it if not", Clark hurried to say and rubbed the back of his neck. "Was stupid to ask anyway. I don't wanna impose on—"

"Don't be ridiculous", Bruce said sharply. "You're welcome to stay. Do you have the boys this weekend?"

Clark groaned. "Oh gosh. I gotta call Lois, see if she can take them."

"They're welcome to stay here as well."

Clark looked about as surprised as Bruce did. Had he really offered that? Not one, but _six_ Supers in Gotham?

"Are you sure?", Clark asked tentatively. "I don't wanna make you feel obligated to— Lois and I can totally arrange something."

"You know me better than to do things out of simple obligation", Bruce said. Damian would be excited to spend the weekend with Jon (even if he hid it with eye-rolls and clicks of his tongue), Tim and Kon would have spent most of that time together anyway. Jason and Laney were Outlaws, they got along well enough in their own way and Bran and Cass were surprisingly good friends. Chris usually stuck to Barbara and Dick when their families got together. "The Kents could count as extended family by now."

Clark's still morose face lit up at that comment and Bruce found himself giving a small smile of his own back.

"I'll call Chris", Clark said. "I mean, he's an adult, and so are the triplets, but I think they'd still like to be here than on their own. I mean. If that's alright with you, if we take up so much space."

"Space is not an issue", Bruce said with a wave of his hand. "Go ahead. Call them. I will let Alfred know."

"Thank you."

Clark was polite, well-raised, he used 'please' and 'thank you' plenty, but this particular time, it carried such a weight of gratitude, Bruce had to swallow.

"It's fine", he managed to say and gestured to the Batcomputer. "Your voice, retina and codes are still activated. You have access to all functions I unlocked for you."

And saying this, Bruce realised what exactly he had done. He had programmed an account, with certain rights and restrictions, for Superman, in the Batcomputer in the damn Bat Cave. This was privy to chosen members of the family. Catwoman, Huntress, Azrael, they didn't have access. Only Nightwing, Red Hood, Red Robin, Robin, Black Bat, Batwoman, Signal, Spoiler and Batwing did, with varying levels of access levels. And Clark, as it seemed.

' _Is that what we're calling it now, Master Bruce?'_

Oh.

That was... that was what Alfred had meant.

Bruce considered Clark _family_.

Clark smiled. "That's great, B. Really, thank you. So much."

"Don't sweat it", Bruce muttered. The intercom beeped.

" _Master Bruce_ ", Alfred's voice crackled. " _Master Dick and young Miss Mar'i have arrived_."

Bruce pressed a button. "I will be up in a minute, Alfred."

" _Very well._ "

Bruce cleared his throat and turned back around to where Clark was currently accessing the Batcomputer. Or rather, was about to. The Man of Steel stood hunched over, eyes focused on nothing at all.

"Clark?", Bruce said carefully and Clark jumped, shook himself and rubbed his eyes. Bruce's stomach twisted when he saw his hands come away glistening slightly with tears.

"Sorry, sorry", he said hurriedly. "This. God. I'm not looking very heroic right now. How many times have you been exposed to fear toxin?"

"Too many to count", Bruce said and took a step closer. "Do you... need a hug?"

Clark huffed. "Batman offering a hug?"

"Blame it on Dick. The kid is a cuddler. It seems to help."

"Right", Clark said and before Bruce could blink, he had an armful of Kryptonian pressed up against him, a face fitted against the curve of his neck and two strong arms wrapped around his middle.

Bruce cleared his throat and put his arms around Clark, awkwardly patting his back. "It's going to be alright."

Clark shuddered. His voice was quiet and Bruce had to strain to hear when he said: "It was— I saw Doomsday."

Bruce focused to keep his heart from speeding up. Doomsday. Of course. He had either suspected it would be Brainiac, Zod or Doomsday. Or maybe an abstract form of Kryptonite.

"Are you okay?", he asked and Clark laughed bitterly.

"I don't look okay, do I." He pulled back, still in Bruce's personal space. Bruce winced internally at the Kryptonian's distressed expression. Superman was adept at schooling his face to fit appropriate emotions — Clark Kent was not. "Fuck, Bruce."

"Duke and Jason apprehended Scarecrow", Bruce said. "It's all taken care of. Chances are it won't happen again."

Clark's posture crumbled. "Yeah. I suppose."

Bruce hooked a finger under Clark's chin and nudged it up, eliciting a surprised sound from him. "Chin up, Superman. You made it through so much. You will make it through this."

Clark gave a half-smile. "Yeah."

Bruce was aware he should probably pull his hand back from where it was still at Clark's chin. He was also aware of the little distance between them.

' _This_ is what Alfred meant', he thought.

Clark's eyes flicked up to Bruce's. "B?"

Why _hadn't_ Bruce shot a rabid Clark down with Green K like Damian had said? It was his contingency plan to take out Superman if necessary. Why had he installed an account for Clark on the Batcomputer, albeit with massive restrictions, when there was no one outside the family who was even permitted to _touch_ the Cave equipment? Why had he invited Clark and his boys to stay the weekend even though Sundays were holy for him and the kids? Why had he offered Clark a hug when his embraces for even Alfred and the kids were sparse?

The realisation of it slammed into Bruce like a freight train.

When had he stopped viewing Clark as a brother in arms and started seeing him as a man he was falling in love with?

"B", Clark repeated, softly.

Bruce's hand travelled up until his thumb was resting just beneath Clark's bottom lip.

"May I?", he asked, voice low and quiet.

Clark nodded, the motion small and jerky.

Kissing Clark was everything Bruce remembered it to be and still nothing like it. The first time, they had both been off-world, fourteen years ago, influenced by a gas drug used in the equivalent of night clubs on that planet. They had put it behind them. But Bruce still remembered the shape and warmth of Clark's soft lips beneath his, the Kryptonian's taste of cherry mints he was so obsessed with.

This time, there was no drug fogging up his mind, hazing his judgement. This was all them, kissing, his hand on Clark's jaw, Clark's hands in his hair.

Clark hummed against his lips and tilted his head and if Bruce's stomach wasn't already flipping, it certainly was now.

Bruce had to pull away when his lungs were starting to sting, then burn with the lack of air. He rested his forehead against Clark's, their breaths the only sound in the Cave.

"Call your boys", Bruce said, quietly relishing in the feeling of Clark's fingers absentmindedly playing with his hair. "I'll be upstairs."

Clark's smile was soft and warm. "Alright."

Bruce nodded and turned to leave. And maybe, just maybe, his steps were lighter than usual when he went up the stairs.


End file.
